The Incident
by Geometrid
Summary: What was "The Incident" mentioned in my previous story "The Beltway?" A follow-up tale. Written for the 2018 Short Story Speedwriting Competition.


I do not own Hogan's Heroes

* * *

"Message from the underground, Colonel." Kinch handed over the sheet of paper. "Looks pretty routine."

"They need someone to pick up some microfilm at the Hauserhof tomorrow and pass it on. I need two volunteers." Hogan glanced around the room for anyone with that volunteer look.

For a moment, no one moved. Then Lebeau made the mistake of glancing at Newkirk. Newkirk raised his eyebrows in response.

"Excellent! Lebeau, Newkirk, thank you for volunteering."

"Volunteered, sir? I was just about to suggest Carter." Newkirk offered a token protest.

"The Colonel said he needed two people, and you guys already volunteered," Carter pointed out smugly. "Guard coming. Never mind, it's Schultz."

Schultz opened the barracks door and sniffed appreciatively. "Smells good, Cockroach. What are you making?" His hand involuntarily strayed towards the spoon in the pot.

Lebeau pushed it away instinctively. "It's not ready yet."

"Fancy a game of cards, Schultz?" Newkirk dealt a hand onto the table.

"Ja, maybe...No, I'm supposed to tell Colonel Hogan that the Kommandant wants to see him."

* * *

Hogan sauntered into the Kommandant's office and flopped gracelessly into a chair. "You wanted to see me, Kommandant?"

"Yes, Hogan. I just got a call from General Burkhalter. He is bringing General Von Lintzer and a civilian here for dinner tonight. I was hoping LeBeau might cook for them."

"Cook a meal on such short notice? I hardly think LeBeau will agree to that."

"I'm prepared to offer thirty extra minutes of electric light and one extra slice of white bread for one week," Klink bargained.

Hogan looked affronted. "Make that one hour of electric light and one extra slice of white bread for two weeks."

"Forty-five minutes of electric light and one extra slice of white bread for one and a half weeks?" Klink countered. "And General Burkhalter will be hosting a dinner party at the Hauserhof tomorrow night. He needs waiters.

"Prisoners of war cannot be forced to serve at dinner parties. According to the Geneva Convention…"

"How about if I add an extra shower this week?" Klink interrupted.

"Make it for two weeks and you've got yourself a deal. I'll let LeBeau know so he can get started." Hogan swept out of the office, leaving Klink feeling exhausted.

* * *

Two staff cars pulled into camp right on schedule. Klink hurried across the compound to meet them.

"Ah, General Burkhalter, General Von Lintzer, how very nice to see you. And Herr…" Klink trailed off and looked at the civilian expectantly.

"Herr Mueller." The man in question somehow managed to look down his nose at Klink, despite his short stature. "Must we stand around outside all day? Or is there somewhere we can conduct our business?"

"Of course, Herr Mueller." Klink led the way into the office, narrowly missing tripping over General Von Lintzer.

In the barracks, the coffeepot crackled to life.

"Are you sure that this room is secure? Nothing of this must leave this room."

"Of course, General Von Lintzer," Klink hastened to reassure them. "This is the most secure place in all of Germany. There has never been a successful escape from Stalag 13!"

General Burkhalter gained control of the conversation. "Herr Mueller has developed a formula for a new type of synthetic fuel. He is carrying the formula and samples with him. He is hoping to build a synthetic fuel plant in the Dusseldorf area. Tomorrow we will conduct a test to see the new formula in action."

"I'm sure it will be a wonderful success," interjected Klink.

General Von Lintzer glared at him. "Herr Mueller will be staying here for the time being to ensure his safety and that of the formula. Klink, you will be in charge of security for the tests and the celebration in town tomorrow night. Have your guards put the barrel of synthetic fuel in Herr Mueller's quarters and place a twenty-four hour guard on the building.

* * *

Hogan pulled the plug on the coffeepot. "We've got to get our hands on those blueprints and destroy that synthetic fuel."

"How about a good old-fashioned demolition pack?" asked Carter. "I've been working on an improved design and let me tell you, that stuff is really great. Boom, Shhh, Babloom!"

Newkirk cut off Carter's bomb imitation. "Are you balmy? You'll blow up the 'ole camp! And us with it!"

Carter looked hurt. "It was just a suggestion. I suppose you've got a better idea?"

"Hold it, fellows." Hogan raised a hand for quiet. "I think our best bet is to discredit this fuel. If it doesn't work, they'll hardly start manufacturing it."

"How do you plan to do that?" asked LeBeau? "The test is tomorrow."

Hogan smiled deviously. "A few improvements to his recipe ought to do the trick."

* * *

During the meal, Kinch and Newkirk ambled towards the VIP quarters, armed with dust rags and "furniture polish."

"Halt! Who goes there?" Schultz leveled his unloaded rifle at them.

"Easy, Schultz. It's just us. Klink told us we had to clean the VIP quarters." Kinch explained soothingly.

"The Kommandant never told me anything about this. And I'm stuck out here instead of tasting the wonderful meal that LeBeau made." Schultz complained.

"I'm sure 'e saved you some. The sooner we finish cleaning the sooner we can bring it to you," bargained Newkirk.

Schultz's affect changed immediately. "You are good boys. Now hurry up and clean like the Kommandant told you."

Once inside the building, it was a simple matter to replace some of the synthetic fuel with the "furniture polish." Newkirk rifled through the papers in the room, but saw nothing that looked like a formula.

Schultz seemed unconcerned at the brevity of the cleaning job. "Do you think there is any food left in the kitchen that I could have?"

"You'd think you were starvin', Schultz, the way you act," joked Newkirk.

"It takes a lot of food to maintain me." Schultz put on his most dignified expression.

"You mean to maintain that blubber," said Kinch. "We'll be back before you waste away."

* * *

The next day, the men gathered around the desk in Hogan's office to finalize the plan for the night.

"Newkirk, you'll remove the plans from Mueller's coat and give them to Carter, who'll photograph them and get them back to you. LeBeau, you'll make contact with the underground agent and pick up that microfilm. Kinch doesn't have a specific role, but he'll be back-up if anything goes wrong."

Carter laughed nervously. "What could go wrong?"

Lebeau glared at him. "An awful lot can happen in two hours."

Kinch nodded. "No point tempting fate. Carter, don't forget the film for the camera."

Carter winced. "Just because a fellow forgets the film one time…"

* * *

The atmosphere at the party was far from congenial. The tests had been a total failure. Many of the generals who had attended the test were still questioning Herr Mueller and General Von Lintzer about the disastrous test.

"Nice party, Kommandant," Hogan remarked.

Klink jumped and glared at Hogan. "There are too many angry generals to make this a nice party. They are angry because the synthetic fuel tests failed."

"What a shame. I guess that's what happens when you let a civilian work on a project like this," mused Hogan.

"Yes," agreed Klink. "Wait, what am I saying? Hogan, you must help me find a way to improve the mood of this party."

"How about a speech?" suggested Hogan. "Just a few remarks to break the ice."

"That's a good idea!" exclaimed Klink. "I'm so glad I thought of that. But where should I stand to give that speech?"

Hogan pointed to a chair at the top of the staircase. "I think that would be a fine place to stand to make a speech. Colonel Klink, the orator, bringing life to the party."

Klink hurried up the staircase and pushed the chair against the railing, mounting it with some difficulty. "Gentlemen, gentlemen…" He tried and failed to be heard over the buzz of the assembled partygoers.

Klink leaned forward and tried to speak louder, but the exertion proved too much. He tumbled over the side of the railing.

If Klink had wanted to gather the attention of the partygoers, he definitely succeeded. At his loud scream, all heads whipped in his direction, and watched as Klink's belt caught on the candelabra on the wall.

Klink kicked his feet desperately, trying to free himself, before realizing that would mean falling on his head. He certainly was succeeding in livening the party atmosphere; General Burkhalter could hardly stand for laughing and the others were not far behind.

After a moment, Kinch glanced at Hogan. "How will we get him down?"

"Can you reach his belt to cut it?" asked Hogan. He spotted Newkirk and LeBeau by the door and beckoned them over.

"Missions accomplished," reported LeBeau.

Hogan could hardly make himself heard over the commotion. "Go get something for Klink to land on," he directed them. "Kinch will cut him down."

Freeing Klink proved anti-climactic. A simple slice of his belt and Klink tumbled face-down onto the couch beneath him. He rolled onto the floor and lay there.

The entertainment over, the generals returned to their conversations. Hogan hurried over to Klink.

"Well, that certainly got their attention diverted," said Hogan.

"Hogan, this was all your idea!" sputtered Klink angrily. "I should have known better than to take your advice. Now I've lost my dignity in front of all those generals?

"My advice? Really, Kommandant," Hogan remarked. "Besides, how could you lose something you never had?"

* * *

The End


End file.
